


A Matter of Line

by Torytigress92



Series: Star Wars: Bloodhound 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: A blending of Legends!Thrawn and Rebels!Thrawn, Adult Sabine, Aged Up Sabine Wren, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Anti-Alien Racism, Arranged Marriage, Blood Ritual, Cheunh Language (Star Wars), Chiss customs, Don't even ask me where this fits in on the canon timeline, F/M, I Don't Know Anymore, Imperial Cadet Sabine, Mandalorian Customs, Mando'a, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sabine and Thrawn bond over art and honour, Spoilers for Season 3 Episode 4 Star Wars: Rebels - The Antilles Extraction, Spoilers for Season 3 Episode 5 Star Wars: Rebels - Hera's Heroes, Tattoos, imperial xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torytigress92/pseuds/Torytigress92
Summary: Sabine Wren, Mandalorian, Rebel, and Imperial fugitive is forced to recall her past and her connection to a certain Chiss Imperial officer as he closes in on Phoenix Squadron.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Sabine Wren
Series: Star Wars: Bloodhound 'Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817452
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	A Matter of Line

Bizarrely this wasn’t the worst predicament Sabine had ever found herself in. Being a weapons expert in the Rebellion meant that becoming familiar with the interior of Imperial prison cells was an occupational hazard.

Admittedly, being hauled in front of an Imperial torture chair wasn’t **_exactly_** ideal but she could work with this…

She just had to wait for her moment.

Of course, Wedge had to make things ten times harder by using her real name.

“Sabine, don’t!” he cried out weakly, as the Stormtroopers pulled him away from the torture chair. At his cry, Governor Pryce’s avaricious eyes narrowed viciously.

“And now we have a name,” she pronounced with relish.

“Thanks,” Sabine muttered sarcastically as Wedge hung his head in shame.

“Blast it!” he murmured. “Sorry.”

Mentally shaking her head, Sabine dimly heard Pryce telling Kallus to take Wedge and Hobbie away, but she couldn’t look away from the absolute **_delight_** in Pryce’s face as she gazed down at Sabine. “Agent Kallus, escort these two back to their cell. **_Sabine_** and I have a lot to talk about.”

Despite her highly precarious situation, Sabine couldn’t resist a dig as the fair-haired ISB agent turned to leave. “Looks like they found someone who can do your job!”

She braced herself for the slap or backhand that was no doubt coming her way, but Kallus barely reacted, pausing only a moment before he left the cell, leaving Sabine alone with Pryce and two Stormtroopers.

Hands folded tightly behind her back, Pryce stepped closer, drawing Sabine’s gaze as the younger woman stared with all the haughty defiance she could muster. Estranged and disowned she might be, but she was still Mandalorian nobility. She could look down her nose with the best of them.

“I won’t talk,” she asserted coolly.

Pryce’s perfectly groomed brow quirked. “Well, let’s see how far we can get without you needing to,” she replied silkily, with an anticipatory smile as she pulled out her datapad. With a few deft flicks of her fingers, she pulled up and projected what looked like an ISB Intelligence file. Worse, it had her image.

 _‘Haar’chak!’_ she mentally swore, but still, she could work with this. It had to happen sooner rather than later, she couldn’t stay off the Imperials’ radar forever.

She just hoped it wouldn’t bring any more hell down on their heads.

“Sabine **_Wren_** , is it?” Pryce continued. “You are far too versed in Imperial protocol not to have been a cadet…and now you’ve come home, little Mandalorian.”

She bent down to stare into Sabine’s eyes, trying to be intimidating, trying to be the dominant force in the room as Sabine wanted to laugh in her face. She wasn’t afraid of her.

Abruptly, Pryce’s gloved hand shot out and grasped Sabine’s face, turning it from side to side, as her smile turned from anticipatory to vicious. “I’m sure your family will be most relieved to hear of your safe return…and your betrothed.”

Sabine tensed despite herself. She hadn’t thought of… ** _him_** in years, not since she fled the Imperial Academy on Mandalore.

“Ahh, I see you remember him even if you don’t want to admit it. So proud…and tough, I think,” Pryce continued, releasing Sabine’s face as she stepped back. “We shall see… but never fear. Grand Admiral Thrawn won’t want his future bride permanently damaged.”

As Pryce turned away, inputting some commands into the torture chair’s command console, Sabine uneasily admitted to herself that she might just be in a little bit of trouble…

* * *

_Imperial Cadet Sabine Wren straightened her uniform as she waited in the antechamber outside the reception room in her family home on Krownest._

_Despite her every intention **not** to be, she was undeniably nervous._

_As part of the Empire’s plans for integration, various Houses had been ordered to submit candidates for a programme in which they would be matched with Imperial officers, to bind Mandalore and its people to the Empire through marriage. It would also have the added benefit of producing strong, capable and loyal warriors for the Imperial cause, through a blending of Imperial doctrine and Mandalorian might. Any children born of these unions would be the first of a new ruling elite on Mandalore, one utterly loyal to the Empire._

_Still bearing the stigma of her support for Death Watch during the Clone Wars, Countess Ursa Wren had submitted her sixteen-year-old daughter’s name without a qualm. Her brother, Tristan, was still too young to be eligible for the scheme so she was to be Clan Wren’s sacrificial nerf calf._

_Countess Wren had impressed on her the importance of their participation; marrying whatever high-ranking Imperial she was matched with would restore Clan Wren’s standing, as well as confirming their allegiance to the Empire Sabine was training to serve. Even so many years after the end of the Clone Wars, the fall of House Kryze and the establishment of the New Order, their name still carried infamy, as Sabine herself had experienced all too often at the Academy._

_They should have known it wouldn’t be enough._

_No doubt Gar Saxon had all but rubbed his hands together with glee when he saw her name among the candidates. To Countess Wren’s initial horror, Sabine had been matched with a nonhuman Imperial officer, a mysterious male by the name of Thrawn._

_Neither Ursa, her father, nor Sabine were under any illusions. In the eyes of the Empire, and Saxon’s cronies, matching Sabine to an alien, Imperial officer or not, was meant to be an insult to Clan Wren and House Viszla._

_It was only through an ISB contact of her father’s that they were able to discover more of her future betrothed. Commander Thrawn of the Thunder Wasp was an Imperial officer with a string of high-profile, brilliant victories to his name, mired only by the court-martials that had accompanied them. He was both despised and admired among the Imperial elites for his strategic brilliance and remarkably swift rise in the ranks of the Imperial Navy. He had little political acumen, apparently, but as the heir of Clan Wren, Sabine had been trained and groomed to, one day, assume her parents’ place as head of Clan Wren. In their marriage, she would provide what he could not._

_As such, the Count and Countess Wren had been sure to encourage Sabine’s love of art, hoping to present it as a sign of sophistication not normally associated with Mandalorian culture, to aruetii at least. It had helped her cope with the daily snubs and challenges she faced at the Academy, giving her an edge over the others as her creative mind saw opportunities where theirs didn’t as well as an escape from the more… mind-numbing aspects of life as an Imperial cadet._

_It also gave her the clarity of mind to appreciate her future husband where others did not. Once Countess Wren had presented her with a holo-image of him, she’d been intrigued by the sight of him._

_Commander Thrawn was an imposing figure, chiselled features set in azure blue skin that could make a Pantoran envious, with red eyes no less entrancing for their intensity than they were scarifying. Despite her dislike of the idea, being tied to a stranger regardless of whether she could get along with him or not, and the not insubstantial part of her that whispered this was not the Mandalorian way, Sabine had been intrigued._

_She knew of others among her peers who were less fortunate. At least Thrawn appeared relatively young, so once she reached her majority at twenty-one, she wouldn’t be tied to an old man. If the only insult Saxon could muster was the fact of his alien origins, he would be sorely disappointed._

_If only for her family’s sake, Sabine would ensure it._

_As it was, due to her studies at the Academy and Commander Thrawn’s own duties aboard the Thunder Wasp, it had taken time to arrange a meeting to confirm the betrothal. Once done, they would remain betrothed until her twenty-first year when they would return to Mandalore and marry._

_To her slight surprise, and her mother’s satisfaction, Commander Thrawn had agreed to abide by Mandalorian betrothal and marriage customs. Not many of the Imperial officers who’d been matched in the scheme were so accommodating but Thrawn seemed less… inclined to look down on their traditions than some. It had endeared him to her parents at any rate._

_Sabine would wait to make her own conclusions about her future husband._

_Finally, her studies and his tour of duty had allowed for a short meeting on Krownest, at her family home. He would only stay a single night before leaving again, but Sabine was determined to take some measure of the man before he left. Both her artist's soul and her warrior's heart were anxious to finally set eyes on him and see where their…unexpected partnership might lead._

_She wondered what had driven him to agree to the union. Had he been ordered to do so? Even from his holoimage and military record, it was easy to deduce that he was a proud man. She couldn’t imagine him accepting such an order easily if it weren’t to his benefit. So what did he expect of her?_

_As a sixteen-year-old girl, she wouldn’t be of much use to him currently; she was about to enter her final year of study at the Academy, and they would have to wait a further five years before they would be permitted to wed. Who knew where she’d even be by then, in what distant part of the galaxy? Would she still be prepared to fulfil this bargain? Would he? What if she found and fell in love with another in that time…?_

_The answer to that one, she didn’t need to ponder. She would be expected to put such feelings aside and do her duty by her family, Mandalore and the Empire. And she would._

_Better not to even contemplate such a twist in her fate, Sabine mused as she began to pace the antechamber. The waiting was beginning to grate but she had no choice. Thrawn had arrived before she did, and he’d been closeted with her parents for a few hours now. She wouldn’t be permitted to see him before their betrothal ceremony, it seemed…_

_Betrothed before they’d even exchanged a few words! The prospect chafed, her warrior’s pride snarling that she shouldn’t submit to such a blatant attempt to control her life, but she knew that to insist otherwise would only bring shame on her family. She had no choice but to be patient and go along with it._

_At the very least, if they detested each other, their duties to the Empire would likely keep them apart for years at a time._

_Nodding to herself, Sabine quickly checked her reflection in the mirror hanging over the fireplace. Mandalorian culture didn’t place much emphasis on beauty or physical attractiveness, but she needed to make sure she was presentable, with no hair out of place as befit the heir of Clan Wren and an Imperial cadet._

_Smoothing down her dark hair, brown eyes watching her sombrely from underneath dark brows, she had to accept there was little more she could do. Cosmetics of any kind were prohibited, and she wore her Mandalorian armour as was traditional. She was hardly the Imperial ideal of womanhood but she hoped her betrothed wouldn’t be displeased by that. She had no intention of changing to suit anyone, and the fact her future husband was an alien would hopefully mean he wouldn’t demand it of her either._

_She could only hope. And wait. And see._

_She’d never been the patient sort, she reflected wryly. What was taking so long?_

_Finally, the antechamber doors opened, and her father stepped through. Alrich Wren smiled warmly at his daughter, but his eyes were troubled. “Come, Sabine. We are ready for you,” he beckoned to her. “Commander Thrawn is anxious to meet you.”_

_Stopping dead, Sabine felt her heart judder to a stop, then race uncontrollably as she stared at her father’s outstretched hand. Forcing herself to take a step forward, she nodded firmly to her father as she preceded him into the reception room._

_At the other end of the large, cavernous room, were three figures. One sat on the ancestral throne of Clan Wren, her mother Ursa Wren._

_The second was a young man in Imperial officer’s garb. He was human so clearly not her betrothed._

_And the other…had to be Commander Thrawn._

_He stood in the dark grey tunic and breeches of the Imperial Navy’s officer corps; black boots polished to a mirror shine. Her first impression was of the broadness of his shoulders; his military record didn’t do him justice. They filled out the closely cut lines of the tunic well, fabric drawn tight across what was obviously a well-toned, muscular body. Ungloved hands, startlingly blue in the well-lit confines of the reception room, were clasped behind his back in a standard ‘parade rest’, while the light played off neatly arranged blue-black hair, trimmed to Imperial regulation length._

_Sabine was entranced by those shoulders, however, their breadth and strength making her palms itch. She idly wondered if they felt as strong as they looked, for a moment picturing him in Mandalorian armour before she mentally slapped herself out of it. Now was not the time for her teenage hormones to turn her into some goggle-eyed schoolgirl._

_“Ahh, Sabine!” her mother called in lieu of a greeting, as the two strangers turned to face Sabine and her father. “Allow me to introduce Commander Thrawn of the Thunder Wasp and his aide, Ensign Eli Vanto?”_

_Sabine forced herself to incline her head politely to the ensign, who gravely returned the gesture with an amused twinkle in his eye, before she found herself trapped in the gaze of her intended._

_His military file really, **really** did not do him justice, Sabine decided then and there, as she gazed up into those burning red eyes. They were straight out of some Corellian fable, potentially terrifying but Sabine found them entrancing as she met his stare defiantly. She could feel her heart pounding but that only made her more determined not to shrink back or lower her eyes from his intense gaze._

_“An honour, sir,” she forced herself to stand to attention, as one corner of Thrawn’s mouth quirked sardonically. When he spoke, it was with the refined, cut-glass accents of the Imperial elites but with just the faintest lilt, a trace of an accent Sabine didn’t recognise._

_“At ease, cadet. I’m not here in any official capacity that requires that deference, though your discipline is to your credit,” he assured her, as she relaxed a little. “The honour is mine, Lady Wren…”_

_“My name is Sabine,” she replied, as he reached out and took her hand in his. Hers was swallowed up in his, his skin cooler than her own, as he held it lightly, bowing over it very correctly. “Like you said, you’re not here in any official capacity. No need to be so formal.”_

_She heard a quiet snort from somewhere behind them, as Thrawn’s aide seemed to find their interaction amusing. Her parents’ eyes were watching them intently as Sabine tried not to let awkwardness infect her. Thrawn’s eyes were focused, watching her every flicker of expression no matter how hard she tried to control it before he glanced at her parents._

_“Perhaps, if your parents do not object, we might have a few moments alone before the ceremony begins?” he asked, yet Sabine sensed it was less a request and more an order, no matter how politely termed. As he held out his arm, Sabine slid her hand over it, slipping into the crook of his elbow like it had always belonged there, feeling the implacable strength of his muscled forearm under her palm. Together, they turned and left her parents and Ensign Vanto behind, heading for a balcony that overlooked the frozen lake beyond._

_Once the doors shut behind them, Sabine dropped his arm and turned to face him, eyes curious. “You wanted me alone. Here I am. Why did you do that?” she asked bluntly as his lips quirked and his hands clasped behind his back once more._

_“Your bluntness is refreshing, Sabine,” he smiled, turning to look out over the frozen lake. “I doubt it would be beyond the realms of believability that you do not find this betrothal easy to accept?”_

_“No more than you do, I’ll bet,” Sabine replied readily enough. Thrawn seemed to want her candour, so she’d give it to him._

_“I accept my Emperor’s wishes,” he stated firmly, but she could see a slightly sardonic quality to his smile that made her smirk in turn. “I will do my duty, as will you…but I propose a second arrangement to make this betrothal more palatable to us both.”_

_“What are you thinking?” she asked, curiously, as she came to the balcony railing and joined him in looking out over the lake. In the distance, the sun was starting to set and threw the snow-capped pines into sharp relief._

_“In truth, this betrothal changes very little for either of us. You have your studies and your own career to establish, and I will be busy with my own duties in the Outer Rim and Wild Space for some years. I know Viceroy Saxon seeks to insult and dishonour Clan Wren with our match, but I see no reason why our relationship can’t be a cordial one,” Thrawn began, coolly and calmly as Sabine listened. Truthfully, a part of her rebelled against the cold, passionless future his words painted, but she had no choice. At the very least, he wouldn’t be cruel to her, she could sense that._

_“And what of the future? You know these matches aren’t meant to just be marriages of convenience,” Sabine asked, raising a brow as Thrawn glanced at her swiftly. “We will be expected to produce children.”_

_“A bridge we will cross when we come to it,” he replied dismissively, looking out over the lake once more. “You are still a child in the eyes of your people, albeit one on the cusp of adulthood. In my own people’s eyes, you would already be considered an adult, but humans do not develop as the Chiss do. Never fear that I have any design on you as things currently stand.”_

_Sabine snorted. “You wouldn’t make it out of here alive if you did,” she replied, without thinking as Thrawn glanced at her, an appreciative spark in his eyes. “It’s not an insult… you being an alien,” she added, hastily as Thrawn frowned at her. “In the past, the Mandalorians were made up of anyone who wished to follow our creed… human or otherwise. Clan Saxon may have forgotten that, but I haven’t.”_

_Thrawn inclined his head, as Sabine caught a flash of movement from behind the transparisteel doors. Her parents were growing anxious. Perhaps they thought she’d scare him off if left alone with him for too long?_

_Snorting to herself, she felt Thrawn’s swift glance before his lips quirked and she knew he too sensed their audience’s growing unease._

_If she was going to be tied to this man for the rest of her life… she wasn’t about to bow to pressure and rush into it. Not yet, at any rate._

_“You mentioned your people, the Chiss… where do you come from?” she asked, intrigued by his own honesty._

_“From the Unknown Regions, I believe you call them,” Thrawn replied, unclasping his hands and curling them over the balcony railing. “No doubt, your father’s ISB contacts forwarded my military records?”_

_“They did,” she admitted, seeing no reason to lie but unable to suppress a slight blush as he glanced sideways at her. Looking down at his hands, she found herself fascinated by the way his hands clasped the railing, curling over it with an unconscious sensuality she was sure he wasn’t entirely aware of. “Your name… it was different on your records?”_

_Thrawn chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he looked back out over the view. “Cheunh is the language of my people. It’s not easily learned by outsiders. Within the confines of the Empire, I go by ‘Thrawn’.”_

_“I’d still like to try,” Sabine protested softly, prompting a sharp look from the man by her side. It was almost… surprised, and warm, as she felt a shiver pass under her skin. Yep, teenage hormones, all present and correct. “It’s the Mandalorian Way to accept any and all for who they are. So, who are you, Commander?” she asked boldly, turning to face him as he straightened and met her eyes intently._

_After a moment, he opened his lips and a sibilant, musical language poured forth. She could just about make out the sounds that made up the name he went by in the Empire, but the rest passed in a flash. “Say it again?” she asked, watching his mouth intently. It was hard and sensual, just like the rest of him. She was only paying attention to catch how he pronounced his name, she told herself._

_“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he repeated patiently, but there was an amused resignation in his expression that told Sabine he didn’t expect her to manage it._

_To be fair, it was quite a mouthful, with sounds Human vocal chords weren’t used to making. But Mando’a wasn’t exactly easy to pronounce either, as Sabine took a deep breath._

_“Well, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she said, smiling as she realised that she’d got the pronunciation pretty close, if not quite yet perfect, as the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as he tried not to smile widely. “Ibic cuyir Miai be Manda’yaim.”_

_“You surprise me, Sabine Wren,” he told her. “Although you still need to work on your pronunciation of the third segment of my name.”_

_Rolling her eyes, Sabine huffed a laugh. “Well, I’ll have plenty of time to practice,” she sighed, glancing over her shoulder as she sensed her mother’s heavy gaze on her, burning into her back. “We should probably go in… get this over and done with.”_

_Thrawn chuckled derisively. “No need to strike me quite so below the belt. My ego is fragile…” he murmured. Sabine rolled her eyes, feeling light and easy in his presence for the first time._

_“Somehow I doubt it’s as fragile as some in the Imperial military,” she replied lightly, as he pushed back off the railing, turning towards the doors. “Are you sure about this? You impressed my family with your respect for Mandalorian tradition already, but Clan Wren’s betrothal traditions are a little…out of the ordinary.”_

_Betrothal tokens were the norm for Mandalorian betrothals, but Clan Wren had also practiced others. Namely, a tattoo on the left forearm symbolising the bond between the two warriors to be joined. Any other Imperial officer would refuse to observe it… but she was quickly learning Thrawn was unlike any Imperial officer she’d ever met._

_“I am. I understand the emphasis on actions rather than words in Mandalorian culture… I too come from a warrior people,” Thrawn told her warmly. “I look forward to learning more of yours.”_

_“And I yours, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Sabine replied, a private vow that was just for them. Thrawn’s mouth quirked._

_“Close,” he quipped, prompting Sabine to roll her eyes as the doors opened and her parents and the ensign stepped through. “Count Wren, Countess Wren, I thank you for your indulgence but I do believe we are ready to begin the ceremony,” he told them, glancing at Sabine with a raised brow as she nodded once._

_“We are,” she agreed, before she glanced at the sunset behind them. “But perhaps we might do it out here. The sunsets on Krownest are without equal,” she told Thrawn, as he inclined his head._

_“I have no objection,” the Chiss replied as the ensign took up a position behind his shoulder. With a barked command from her mother, two attendants set out the equipment for the betrothal ceremony: two tattoo rings, two small knives and a ceremonial bowl in which coals gently burned._

_With her parents at her back, Sabine took up a position opposite Thrawn, beside the bowl of coals and the tattoo ring, unbuckling her bracer as she did so._

_“With your permission, Commander Thrawn, we will now recite the betrothal vow,” Countess Wren said coolly, as the Chiss officer inclined his head gracefully._

_“I am prepared, Countess Wren,” he told her, loosening his sleeve on his left arm, pulling it up to expose the pale, unmarked blue skin of his forearm. Finding and holding Sabine’s gaze, he inserted his arm into the tattoo ring, not reacting as the tiny needles in its inner circle pierced the dermis layer of his skin. Sabine did the same, only wincing slightly as the needles sank into her skin._

_“Then, please repeat after me-?” her mother began, only to be interrupted as Thrawn smoothly raised a hand to silence her, still holding Sabine’s gaze as he explained._

_“Forgive me, Countess Wren, but I have already studied and memorised the betrothal vow in its native Mando’a. I believe I can recite it without aid, as it should be,” he told her gently, as Sabine’s lips parted. She wondered just how much Mando’a he understood, if so._

_Taking a deep breath, forcing any such thoughts out of her mind, she began to speak, slow and quiet at first, Thrawn her match opposite as the tattoo needles began to dance across their skin._ “ ** _A'yaou mies ayalya; Ni dun wa yaa a'u'ga ner e'ya'gr at hiibir ibic verd asas ner srukre; at motir juaan etid, at akaanir tome, adol an simir be cuun jibr tome,_** _” they recited together, as Sabine breathed a small sigh of relief as the burning, prickling sensation across the skin of her forearm ceased and the needles retracted. Retrieving her arm, she saw a thin band of intertwining, intersecting lines now encircled her arm, mimicking the patterns Clan Wren wore as decoration for their armour, leaping and jumping so they almost appeared to be flames._

_Opposite her, Thrawn did the same, eying his new tattoo curiously before he smiled and met Sabine’s eyes. “Your design, I take it?” he asked quietly, as she nodded, unable to hide her flush. “You have an artist’s eye, Lady Wren.”_

_Her father cleared his throat. “The ceremony is not yet completed, Commander, Sabine,” he gestured to the knives and the ceremonial bowl. Pulling herself free from Thrawn’s hypnotic gaze, Sabine nodded as she stepped towards them, mirrored by Thrawn on her other side. Picking up the knives, she held out one to him before twirling her own into her hand. Raising her brows challengingly, Sabine waited for him to give her his hand._

_Slowly, he extended it. Sabine took hold of his wrist, hyper-conscious once more of the physical strength in his body as she lightly ran the tip of the blade across the tip of Thrawn’s left thumb. A bead of blood welled up in its wake, as she handed the knife to her mother, before extending her own arm to Thrawn’s waiting hand._

_He took her newly tattooed arm gently but firmly, holding her forearm cupped in the cradle of his long, sensuous fingers. Sabine felt the weight of his touch like a physical shock through her system, as she inhaled tightly. Looking up at him, she realised he was aware of his effect on her, but he was too honourable to ever take advantage of it if she didn’t wish it._

_She barely felt the nick of the knife against her thumb, before Thrawn was guiding her hand towards the bowl. Forced back to herself, she recalled the final words of the betrothal vow. Thrawn, of course, wasn’t so affected._

_“ **Asas mhi cenr cuun tal tome, rala cuun danija cuyir ayalya bal motir teg. A'yaou mies ayalya, mhi hara'yiaor cuun ctalcasr,** ” they recited together, squeezing their thumbs until a droplet of blood each fell onto the coals below, sizzling._

_Sabine inhaled raggedly, pulling her eyes from the sight as she looked up into Thrawn’s eyes, oddly warm and knowing, as she contemplated the bargain they’d just made._

_No turning back now…_

* * *

Except she had. When she left Mandalore, she’d turned her back on her family, on Clan Wren, on Mandalore… and on her betrothed.

Thrawn had barely figured into her calculations when she decided to flee Mandalore. She’d known, once she spoke out about the Empire’s hold on Mandalore, after the Duchess, after her family disowned her, that her association with Thrawn wouldn’t save her. And loyal Imperial that he was, he wouldn’t even try.

No doubt, he’d dissolved their betrothal as soon as he could. Or so she had thought, before being captured at Skystrike and Pryce’s snide little dig.

Five years had been enough time for her to all but forget about the Chiss, until now.

Now she couldn’t run any more. Her past was coming back to bite her, quite literally.

They’d just arrived back on Atollon after their unsuccessful mission to Ryloth. As soon as she could, she’d excused herself to her bunk, unbuckling her left bracer.

For the second time, she’d heard a name she had once hoped never to hear again. **_Thrawn_**.

It seemed he was the Imperial officer assigned to the hunt for the rebels in the Lothal sector. And a Grand Admiral now, to boot. He’d certainly risen through the ranks, despite his unfortunate associations. She had no doubt her little stunt and defection would have hurt his career, although apparently not enough to halt it indefinitely.

After her escape from Skystrike, she’d foolishly, naively hoped she could forget Pryce’s insinuation, that it was just so much typical Imperial bluster… but she couldn’t ignore the implications anymore. Thrawn was on the hunt…and he knew she was with the Phoenix cell. Pryce would have informed him of her resurfacing. He knew who she was, now.

She sat on her bunk, tracing her betrothal tattoo, the leaping, stylised black flames around her forearm. No one in Phoenix Squadron had ever seen it, she’d made sure of that.

But now, she had no choice.

As both her commanding officer and a close friend, Hera needed to know the truth.

 _‘Speak of the Devaronian…’_ she thought wryly, as her door alarm chimed. “Come!” she called, her voice unlocking the door as it opened to reveal Hera, none the worse for wear after her ordeal on Ryloth. “Hera.”

“Sabine. You wanted to see me?” the Twi’lek asked concernedly, her eyes warm and affectionate as she took in the young Mandalorian’s wan face, her right hand clutching her left forearm almost convulsively. “Are you okay, Sabine? I noticed you were a little…off-balance after we left Ryloth.”

“Yeah,” she began sheepishly. “About that… the Imperial who rumbled you and took you prisoner?”

“Grand Admiral Thrawn. He’s… different from the usual Imperial,” Hera replied, with a distant, haunted look in her eyes.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Sabine mumbled, as she slowly moved her hand away from her forearm, revealing the tattoo. “Do you know what this is?”

“A tattoo?” Hera replied, a little bemused. “This isn’t the Empire, Sabine. The Rebellion doesn’t have any regulations against tattoos.”

“It’s more than just a tattoo, Hera,” Sabine sighed, closing her eyes as she readied herself for the onslaught: the questions, the suspicions, the disappointment… “It’s a betrothal tattoo.”

“Betrothal? Since when were you betrothed to someone?” Hera asked, her bemusement turning to creeping suspicion as Sabine’s strange behaviour, her question about the Imperial officer on Ryloth, and her request to speak with Hera privately all began to connect in her mind. “Sabine…?”

“It was years ago. To promote ‘cultural integration’ between Mandalore and the Empire, a few dozen representatives from the Clans were… matched and betrothed to up-and-coming Imperial officers. I was one of them,” Sabine confessed quietly, as Hera inhaled sharply.

“How could your parents agree to something like that…?” the Twi’lek asked disbelievingly.

Sabine shrugged. “After my mother’s support for Death Watch during the Clone Wars, the Empire and Viceroy Saxon had us over a barrel. To try and regain some standing and show our allegiance to the Empire, my mother didn’t hesitate to offer me as a candidate. I was sixteen, about to enter my last year in the Academy when I was informed of my match… Saxon meant it as an insult, to me and to my family, matching a human Mandalorian with a nonhuman Imperial officer…”

“A nonhuman Imperial officer called Thrawn?” Hera guessed the rest, her teal eyes wide with disbelief and anger as Sabine flinched.

“He was still just a commander then,” she finished lamely. “I went along with it… didn’t really think much about him after I left. Always assumed I’d never see him again, or if I did, it’d be at the wrong end of a blaster but…now he’s hunting us. And he’ll know I’m with you.”

“Sabine…” Hera breathed, both horrified and angry, although not for the reasons Sabine likely thought she was. She was angry on her behalf, at the parents who’d offer up a young girl as a sacrifice for political purposes. “I’m so sorry. Sorry you had to bear that burden for so long,” she reached out, grasping the Mandalorian’s shoulder and squeezing comfortingly. She ignored Sabine’s surprised look as she gently added, “You’ve had no contact with him since you… left?”

“We…corresponded infrequently during the year between our betrothal and my defection from the Empire,” she admitted, with a small shake of her head. “But nothing since then. We weren’t going to marry until I turned twenty-one,” the exact age she was now, both women realised, as Sabine couldn’t hide a shudder as Hera glanced at her with concern. “I’d all but forgotten him until Pryce brought him up when she captured me at Skystrike,” she continued stiltedly. “She won’t have wasted any time informing him of my mission there. I’m a liability now, Hera. My presence in the Squadron will just bring down more Imperial retaliation on all of you.”

“No you’re not,” Hera protested fiercely. “We’re in danger from the Empire, whether you’re with us or not. And if anything, this might be an advantage. You know him, certainly better than anyone else here. We might be able to use that.”

“I guess,” Sabine shrugged, inwardly relieved Hera hadn’t run screaming from the room. But then that was Hera Syndulla, always looking for the strategic advantage in any situation. It was what made her such a good military commander. “Hey, Hera… thanks for not freaking out about this,” she added awkwardly, reaching up and grasping the Twi’lek’s hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry he took your Kalikori. I know how much it meant to you.”

“He was… frighteningly clever,” Hera nodded, sitting down beside Sabine as her eyes turned distant again. “He knew about the Kalikori, its significance to Twi’leks… he deduced my identity from that and a mosaic my mother made of us when I was just a child…he’s more dangerous than any Imperial we’ve ever faced. Even Vader and his Inquisitors.”

“I knew he was brilliant,” Sabine whispered, sounding so young it made Hera’s heart ache. “It came across in his letters to me… the few conversations we had… but he’s become even more so. To have made Grand Admiral so quickly…” she shook her head.

“Whatever he throws at us, we’ll be ready. With your help, Sabine…” Hera concluded firmly, standing and facing the younger woman as she added, “Any insight you have could save us.”

Sabine hesitated only a moment, before she nodded.

* * *

_To be continued in 'A Matter of Colour'_

**Author's Note:**

> The 'Bloodhound' verse is more abstract and loose than the main storyline so there's going to be lots of short entries, and longer entries, and time jumps and skips. This takes place in approximately 1ABY, or what would have been 1 ABY as the Death Star isn't finished yet in this continuity, and Ezra didn't join Phoenix Squadron until he was in his late teens.
> 
> So a bit bonkers, but it links back to part II of 'Bloodhound' verse and the vision Jayna has on the way to Coruscant. Our First Lady has become quite the game player, manoeuvring all her pieces into play... but why and for what purpose? Read on to find out! Cal and Jayna will make an appearance in this series as well as their own Dark Side AU. 
> 
> So tell me what you think?
> 
> Translations for Mandalorian:
> 
> Haar’chak – damn it!
> 
> aruetii - outsider/foreigner
> 
> Ibic cuyir Miai be Manda'yaim - This is the Way of Mandalore
> 
> A'yaou mies ayalya; Ni dun wa yaa a'u'ga ner e'ya'gr at hiibir ibic verd asas ner srukre; at motir juaan etid, at akaanir tome, adol an simir be cuun jibr tome - Before these witnesses; I hereby declare my intention to take this warrior as my own; to stand beside them, to fight together, through all the years of our life together
> 
> Asas mhi cenr cuun tal tome, rala cuun danija cuyir ayalya bal motir teg. A'yaou mies ayalya, mhi hara'yiaor cuun ctalcasr - As we shed our blood together, let our vow be witnessed and understood. Before these witnesses, we pledge our oath


End file.
